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mistiell · 9 months

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When you're lost in the Darkness

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion suspects that you're afraid of the dark. What he doesn't know, is that not only will he soon be proven right, but he severely underestimated just how severe your fear is.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, nyctophobia, brief description of panic attack, possibly ooc Astarion, literally one use of y/n

A/N: Hey hi hello, I am back from the void for now. I would like to make a disclamier: I have not yet played BG3!! So, if anyone is out of character, I apologize!

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Astarion has a theory.

A small and rather unimportant one, but a theory nonetheless.

It started when he noticed the way you set up your bed roll when the group makes camp for the night. You’re always as close to the fire as you can be without lighting yourself aflame, and when it dims to a certain point, he’s watched you rouse out of a dead sleep to stoke the coals and add more fuel. At first, he thought perhaps you were just prone to chills – he knows some people run cold when they sleep – but after lingering after one of your shared nights together, he came to realise that you’re actually more like a mostly-human furnace.

Then he noticed the way you linger around any sort of light source like a moth to a flame after the sun has set, and the way you fidget and glance over you shoulder every few minutes on the off chance your back is to the darkness.

He finds it strange. Granted, he thinks you’re strange for a variety of other reasons, but this pattern of behaviour is particularly puzzling to him. Which has lead him to his theory;

“You’re afraid of the dark.” He jests after watching you glance into the woods for the umpteenth time, aiming for teasing and realising he’s missed when your face falls into something akin to shame and discomfort.

You try to cover it with a scoff, rolling your eyes in a way he knows is meant to feign indifference, “I have far worse things to fear than the dark.” You spit those last two words, as if they taste bitter on your tongue. Firelight dances in your eyes as you keep your gaze trained firmly on him, even despite how much you look like you want too search for whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself is out there, intent on disproving him.

“True,” He smirks with a practiced ease, suddenly – strangely – desperate to ease the tension he’s just created, “But should you ever find yourself too afraid to sleep alone,” He leans in just a smidgen closer, grinning coquettishly, “My arms are always open.”

You snort, the tension in your shoulders ebbing just so as you chuckle, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“By all means, keep me in your thoughts as long as you wish, darling.” He hums, smile just a little softer than he intends when you genuinely laugh at that, the sound sweet and airy as it bubbles up from your throat.

“And with that, I’m off to bed.” He nearly mistakes incredulousness for fondness, but catches himself as you stand. Turning back for just a moment, you give him a smile so soft, it makes is gut twist with a feeling he’s a little unsure of, “Goodnight, Astarion.”

If he’d fed more recently, he’s sure his cheeks would be flushed. He blinks, clears his throat, “Sleep well, my sweet.”

Only days later, his theory is proven correct when you stumble upon some sort of abandoned cottage – House? Astarion’s not entirely sure – and, upon Gale’s insistence that it could be useful, decide to search it for wares.

“You do know there’s likely nothing of use in here, don’t you?” Shadowheart sighs impassively as she thumbs through a tattered book, slotting it back into place where she found it once she’s deemed it useless.

Gale huffs and rolls his eyes, “Well, we won’t know until we look, will we?”

“We won’t be finding much of anything if you two don’t quit your squabbling.” You quip before turning your attention back to the chest you were searching. You just barely lean into Astarion’s space, grinning impishly. He leans in just a little closer – only to hear you better, of course – as you whisper, “They’re like children, I tell you.”

Something shatters. You both turn just as Shadowheart fixes Gale with a stern look, “Hells, Gale, pay attention to where you’re going!”

“Wh- It’s not my fault!” Astarion raises a brow at their bickering, tutting amusedly, “Children, indeed.”

Huffing a laugh, your attention slides to a door on the far side of the room and move to investigate. After trying the handle and finding it jammed, it takes a good shove to get it open. The only thing that illuminates the small pantry is the light filtering in from the door you’ve just opened.

You seem content to simply skim over the contents of the room from where you’re standing until you spot something of interest, eyes lighting up with a little gasp.

Astarion takes your place in the doorway as you rush into the room after propping the door open with a nearby pail, curious, “What have you found?”

Snatching a little tin box off a shelf, you open it and beam, “Oh, I haven’t had this in ages!”

“What?” He asks again, a little impatient.

You hold it out to him, and when he comes closer to look over the lip of the tin, he finds a fair amount of shredded, aubergine coloured leaves inside.

He looks back to you, confused, “Tea?” “Tea.” You grin, holding it up to your nose and closing your eyes to revel in the fruity scent, “I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s delicious.”

With how delighted you are over finding it, he doesn’t doubt it.

“Well, at least we can tell the others our searching wasn’t in vain.” He turns, “Settle that dispute between Gale and Shadowhear-.” The toe of his boot bumps the pail, sending it rolling as the door swings shut and swathes the room in darkness.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but eventually, the door comes back into view, only now the faded sage green paint is a dull grey.

Just as he moves for the door, he’s startled by the clattering of metal and a loud bump. He whips around to ask what in the hells just happened, but the words die in his throat when he finds you pressed flat against the shelves on the far wall – which really isn’t that far considering there’s only about six feet between the two of you. He can hear your heart racing from where he’s standing, your breaths quick and shallow.

That theory he had just got a lot more important.

He calls your name and you flinch, gaze flitting in his general direction but never settling on him. You look well and truly petrified. “Darling, are you alright?”

It’s a terrible question considering you are very visibly not alright, but he can’t seem to come up with anything else fast enough.

“I can’t–.” Your voice cracks and you swallow, looking dreadfully close to tears as you squeeze your eyes shut and cover your face with your hands, “I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”

“Hang on,” After trying the handle, he finds the door is jammed no matter how hard he yanks. He considers calling for Karlach or Wyll, but thinks better of it, not wanting to frighten you further. They’ll notice the two of you are missing and come looking eventually.

“Astarion.” His name from your lips pulls him from his thoughts. He usually loves hearing you say his name, even when your cross with him. But when it comes out like a pitiful mix between whisper and whimper, he finds his heart twists uncomfortably in his chest.

He turns back to you and stalls. Unsure, helpless. He wants desperately to comfort you, but he has no idea how. He goes over the many different ways he could try, and the many different ways you could react, before finally, “Tell me what you need.”

After a moment of hesitation, you hold out a trembling hand and he steps forward to take it without a second thought. You tense when his skin first meets yours, palms wet with tears as your breath hitches. You tug him closer to wrap your arms around his middle and cling to him like a lifeline, shaking terribly as you bury your face into his neck. He secures you to him with an arm around your back and a hand cupped over the nape of your neck. He can feel your heartbeat stuttering under his fingertips when they settle over your pulse.

You’re still gasping.

“You need to breathe, lovely.” He says it gently, voice void of his usual coquettish flare. The nickname is softer than what he’s used with you so far, and it feels and sounds more earnest than it should. He tries not to dwell on it as he soothes his palm up and down the length of your spine, “Try to mimic me. I’ll guide you, alright?” You nod, and when starts coaching you through each inhale and exhale, you do your best to follow.

It takes several breaths, but eventually, they grow deeper and stop catching in your chest. Your heart slows. Not by a lot, but enough that Astarion can stop worrying that you’ll work yourself into a panic induced fainting spell.

He guides you through a few more before asking, “Better?”

You nod. With your throat dried out from crying, your voice is rather croak-y when you reply, “A little.”

“You sound like a frog.” It startles a laugh from you, the sound letting Astarion breathe a little easier.

“I do!” You sniffle, still laughing. It makes him laugh too.

“What the hells is so funny in there?” Lae’zel shouts from the other side with all her usual charm.

“Frogs!” Astarion shouts back, and you giggle a little more.

There’s a few loud bangs as one of your friends attempts to open the door. He can feel you flinch with each one until finally, it bursts open, blessed light washing over the two of you despite Karlach towering in the doorway. Your body sags with relief, and a little, involuntary sound escapes you as a new wave of tears threatens to spill, this time for an entirely different reason.

“What happened in here?” Gale asks, looking wildly confused as you slip out of Astarion’s arms and wipe at your cheeks hastily. “Oh, erm,” You clear your throat awkwardly, gaze bouncing between the items the fell when you backed into the shelf before settling on the tea leaves. You look genuinely disappointed as you gesture vaguely towards the small pile on the floor, “I found a tea I really like and got upset when I dropped it.”

“Ah. I see.” Gale nods, still obviously perplexed. If any of them find the explanation odd, they don’t say anything.

Shadowheart leans around Karlach, “We should get a move on. There are only so many hours before sundown.”

“Right. Yes, that’s a good idea.” You nod, clearly thankful for an excuse to get the hell out of there as you squeeze past them and lead them outside.

Much to Astarion’s chagrin, Karlach turns when she notices he’s hung back, “Oi, Astarion. What are you doing?”

He glances between her and the pantry before huffing, “Just... Tell them to wait a moment.”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously but agrees, leaving him to tell you and the others. He makes his way back into the pantry for a moment before jogging outside to join you.

It’s a good few hours until you make camp, and another few before he finally plucks up the courage to approach you near your tent.

You notice him striding over and smile at the sight of him, “Astarion! To what to I owe the pleasure?”

“I come bearing gifts.” He announces dramatically, hoping his puckish grin will be enough to mask how incredibly fucking nervous he truly is.

“For me?” You ask, cocking your head slightly to one side.

He rolls his eyes playfully, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, would I?”

“Well obviously, I just meant–,” You huff and shake your head, chuckling incredulously, “Never mind. What have you got for me?”

He holds out the tin and watches surprise and confusion flash over your face in quick succession before something unbearably soft settles over your features.

Taking it from him, you’re quick to pop the lid off. You gasp when you lay eyes on the contents, eyes wide when you look back at him with such wonder, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, “How did you–?”

“I salvaged what I could off the top of the pile. I– erm,” He clears his throat, “I thought it would be wasteful to leave perfectly good tea behind when at least one of us could enjoy what’s left of it. Irresponsible, even.”

You huff a laugh. There’s no mistaking the fondness this time.

“You’re absolutely right. That would be irresponsible of us.” Your smile shifts into something heart achingly earnest as you step closer and lean up to peck his cheek, “Thank you.”

“Of course, love.” He’s aiming for coquettish but it comes out too sincere to be convincing. That feeling twists at his chest again and it’s only now that he realises what it is.

He actually, genuinely cares for you.

Rattled, he feigns a yawn and smirks, “Well, as much as I adore your company, I really must be off to bed. Beauty sleep, and all that.”

“Right!” You seem to startle yourself with your own volume and clear your throat, chuckling awkwardly, “Right, of course. Goodnight, Astarion.”

He takes a mere second to mull it over before he throws caution to the wind and cradles the side of your neck in his palm, thumb brushing the curve of your jaw as he presses his lips to the apple of your opposite cheek. Before he takes time to actually think over his new found feelings and potentially freak himself out, he’s going to let himself indulge in you just a little while longer.

Pulling back, he brushes the back of his knuckles over the skin he just kissed, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

He can hear your heart thump, thump, thumping as he walks towards his own tent. The feelings he has for you are a new and rather inconvenient development. But if later he finds that he doesn’t particularly mind?

No one has to know just yet.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldurs gate 3

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mitsies · 1 year

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PASS IT FORWARD ! ; itoshi rin > rin is only the jealous type when it comes to you.

it’s safe to say you’re a little bit annoyed.

you’ve been best friends with itoshi rin for the longest time– years, at this point– and you think it’s time to end your little streak because he’s seriously pissing you off. the both of you are in class right now, and your teacher, an elderly woman with a fierce temper is yammering about geography or whatnot. there’s a test the following week so you’re really trying your damndest to focus on the gibberish she spews, but it’s proving exceedingly difficult when rin won’t stop bugging you.

every two seconds, it seems, he’s sliding another light yellow sticky note with irrelevant and unimportant messages scrawled onto them. the content is stupid, simply saying things like ‘nice weather outside’ even though it was raining outside and ‘what was the math homework’ despite the fact that he’d quite literally given the answers to you an hour earlier at your lunch break.

it’s getting to be a problem. the pile is mounting on your desk– it’s a blend of pale yellow, lime green, and neon pink squares of paper, one that is growing difficult to conceal beneath your notebook. you give rin, who has the desk next to you, a dirty look to try and get him to stop. he reaches over and places another sticky note on your desk. this one is electric blue and says ‘what class do you have after this.’ it’s the last period of the day.

you open your mouth to whisper something, to maybe tell rin to stop or ask him why the hell he’s being so strange, when you catch your teacher’s eyes. she levels you with a withering glare and you snap your mouth closed. if she were to catch the two of you talking, let alone passing notes, you’d surely be sent to detention after school. and you really, really couldn’t risk that– not today of all days. because today, you’ve got a date.

a tiny smile cracks your face as you grow giddy at simply the prospect– you had a date. today. in an hour. with a person. rin slides another sticky note onto your desk and it snaps you out of your stupor– you send him another look. he is infuriatingly neutral as you return your gaze to the teacher. rin should know better than to risk detention today, especially when you’d been chatting his ears off about this date all week. he’d always replied with his typical placidity and blunt, harsh remarks. he called the guy’s forehead big and told you that you could probably do better, to which you’d rolled your eyes and asked when he was going to get a date. rin didn’t respond to that.

you’d assumed he had nothing left to say, which was decidedly proven false, now, with how many damn sticky notes he kept passing you. you furtively look around before whipping out your phone and shooting him a text:

you: what the fuck r u doing. stop omg i cant miss my date u know this

you: are u like trying to get me in trouble

and he leaves you on read. you look at him, and he’s staring at you. ‘what,’ you mouth, but he just blinks. there’s another sticky note on his finger. he looks at you and then the teacher– you follow his eyes. she’s looking at the class. you and rin are in plain sight. rin looks back at you and you meet his eyes. desperately, but as subtly as you can, you shake your head because you know what he’s about to do– like when a cat just sits and stares at a glass at the edge of a countertop. it feels like a slow-motion video as rin reaches out, sticky note in hand, and you hear your teacher’s ruler smack against the wall with a force you never thought a little old lady could muster.

“the two of you,” she practically bellows, flashing her ruler like a sword in the both of your faces, “detention! after school. this room for an hour.”

she turns back to the board and you unfreeze, slumping back into your seat and running your cold fingertips across your face. frustration bubbles inside you and you let out a breath sharply, pulling your phone out underneath your desk to shoot your date a quick message to cancel last minute. you refused to look at rin, letting your furious thoughts brew like a storm. what had gotten into him? why was he practically sabotaging you?

you don’t spare him a glance until everyone else walks out the classroom, to irate to bother. your date had been gracious and offered his condolences, and you felt immensely guilty for canceling so last minute, as well as angry at your best friend. the room was basically empty, now, save for you and him. the teacher leaves, stating that the school personnel who’d be watching over the both of you would be here shortly. you sideeye rin.

“nice work.” your words are sharp and serrated and he flinches, a reaction you’ve never seen from him. you blink and turn to face him. he doesn’t say a word, so you ask, “what the hell was that for?”

he can’t meet your eye, and just shrugs, “dunno.”

you’re usually a lot nicer to him– or, at least, when you’re mean it’s always in a joking-besties-i-love-you way. but you lack your typical kindness as you narrow your eyes at him and snark, “if i didn’t know better, i’d think that was on purpose. good thing i know better, right?”

it’s a challenge, and he knows it. you’re asking him if he meant to get you into detention, if he meant to force you to cancel on your date. and his silence is the only response you need.

you groan as you tip your head back to the fluorescent lights and close your yes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “what the fuck, rin? why would you do that?”

he doesn’t reply again and you sit back up, pulling your leg onto your chair and glaring at him. “well? don’t tell me you suddenly have nothing to say. what happened to all the things you had to say to me?”

again, he winces at your bittered tone. a tinge of guilt makes itself apparent in your chest and you turn your head away, to face the window. rain kisses the glass and your eyes track little droplets in their journey down the pane as if they’re race horses. it’s a minute of pure silence before rin speaks: “i didn’t want you to go out with him.”

you snort a laugh and don’t bother looking at him. his voice is small and maybe you’d feel worse for him if you still weren’t kind of miffed. “that much was obvious, i think.”

“you deserved better.” he’s more firm in this statement, like he believes it more. at this, you turn your head and meet his eyes. “but he liked me. he actually liked me. is that not good enough?”

rin looks genuinely mad, moreso than usual, as he returns your scowl. “he’s not fucking special.”

you blink. he blinks. “what?” you ask. rin keeps staring awkwardly, before putting his head down on the desk. “oh my god, stop brooding. what did you just say?”

“nothing,” his voice is muffled by his arms and you stand, chair scraping the floor as it’s moved by your actions. moving over to the side of his desk, you poke his arm. your best friend looks up and his face is pink as he glowers at you.

a beat passes and he’s about to bury his face in his arms on the desk again but you speak: “what do you mean, ‘he’s not special?’”

rin’s teeth click together as he stares you down. you’d be a little intimidated if you weren’t so familiar with him. “you implied there’s someone else who likes me.”

“okay.”

“so tell me who.”

“no.”

your eyes light up and rin groans– he knows he’s made a mistake now. “so there is someone.”

“okay.”

“stop okay-ing me. who? do i know them?” it’s almost as if your previous gripes are forgotten, just like that, or maybe you just couldn’t be mad at him for too long. as was your friendship with itoshi rin– easy, easier than most things have come to him. you look around the room, checking for the teacher, before hopping up to sit on his desk, effectively shoving him off and preventing further moping.

maybe that’s one of the reasons rin fell for you. you could be as headstrong as he was, and your personalities just clicked. you made him better, he thinks. you make him soft around the edges, and you make him fuzzy like a mango seed and warm like a spring-turned-summer day. maybe that’s why itoshi rin couldn’t stand it when you had a date with another person. he let his envy get the better of him and acted before he spoke, because he was stupid and headstrong and dumb like you, because you’ve been rubbing off on him.

he was your best friend. he had been for years. and he wanted more, more with you. the sticky-notes were his last resort. he wasn’t planning on telling you anything, but his words tripped out of his mouth and now he was here.

“are they on your team? are they tall?”

you kick your legs in the air and your heels click against the silver legs of the desk. rin watches. you tilt your head at him, “how close am i?”

“close,” he mutters, trying to find a place to look that isn’t your legs or your face. closer than he’d like to admit.

“isagi? oh, but he’s not very tall,” you muse. and he can’t take it anymore. he can’t, not when you had a date with someone else today, not when you’re listing off guys who could like you, guys who you could like back, guys who were not him. he can’t do this, watching you slip between his fingers and into someone else’s hands. you’re still sitting on his desk when he says, “it’s you.”

“it’s me? like.. are you saying that i like me? i don’t think crushes work like that.”

he shakes his head, letting out a breath, and looking up at you, “no, no. it’s me.”

“you.. like me?”

rin nods and he’s suddenly so tense and his mouth is dry and he feels sick to his stomach, but he keeps going because he needs you to know, and his hand migrates to your thigh as your skin sparks a fire inside his ribcage. “no one else. none of my teammates. it’s me. i like you.”

he sounds angry still, especially so when he mentions his teammates, and it’s as if he’s clarifying that no one else deserves you, that you’re perfect for him and just him. you stare at him. he’s looking at you. regret sets in: what did he just say? why did he say that? oh, that was embarrassing. oh, you’re going to say no. oh, you’re going to leave forever.

and then you smile. and you laugh. “i wish you’d just said that.”

he doesn’t miss the heat beneath your skin, and he doesn’t miss the way you spin a lock of hair around your fingers and give him the most bashful expression he’s seen you wear. and he’s proud, suddenly, because he did that. not the guy you had a date with, not one of his teammates, not anyone else– he did that.

you look around the room. “the teacher’s not coming, i don’t think.”

rin follows your gaze– it’s very possible that the teacher might just be late. but he’s not about to pass this opportunity. “you’re right.”

“i say we get outta here, then. i was promised a date today, right? i’d rather it be with you.”

rin’s heart stalls, and then stops, and then sprints a fucking marathon in his chest. you grin at him, and he gives you a half-smile as you take his hand off your thigh and hop off the desk, keeping him in your grasp. you move to take your schoolbag in your hands, but he beats you to it, picking it up along with his own.

“that sounds perfect,” he manages to get out, “that sounds good.”

✄ this was written for the mitsies 3k follower event using the prompt 'they get you both in detention because they were passing you notes on purpose so you miss your date with someone else'

[⇥3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥3K EVENT INFO]

#itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk rin #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #itoshi x reader #reader insert #mitsies 3k

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m0nsterqzzz · 6 months

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✦ The Little Things ✦

pairing: kate bishop x gn!reader

summary: Kate loses the bracelet her loving partner made for her when they first started dating and panics maybe a bit more then she should

warnings: panic attacks, a little bit of cussing, mentions of killing ig?

a/n: so this is unimportant but i wanted to say that i really wanted to do this story as what happened when i got the inspo (my ex was panicking over losing the bracelet i made her when we were dating) but decided to go with the more fluffy version lol. enjoy kate being so adorable. also, i'm pretty sure i used they/them when i had to use pronouns so if theres anything other then that, let me know. and, I'm literally so terrible at writing endings so if you guys have any tips on how to end a fluff or angst oneshot, it would be greatly appreciated

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

When you wake up, you're wrapped in your girlfriend's arms. Kate just got home from spending the weekend with her mother, and apparently she got to the Compound while you were asleep last night. Your back is up against her front, and her hand is gently placed on an area of exposed skin on your hip.

You turn around on the bed, placing your head against Kate's chest. She stirs a bit, but seems to still be asleep as she moves a hand to cradle the back of your head.

Suddenly, the sound of harsh knocking on your bedroom door makes you both sit up, now very alert as you both look around. “Kate!” You hear Clint's voice from the other side of the door, and Kate smiles. You roll your eyes, laying back down and trying to pull her with you. She gets up off the bed, and you groan and hold her pillow close to you. She opens the door for Clint, and his eyes fall to you before going back to Kate. “We got a mission Bishop. Suit up.” That makes you sit up, and you glare at the bowman. “She just got back. Why do you hate me Barton?” He pretends to think about it for a moment before he shrugs and begins walking away. “I’ll go make you a list!” He calls over his shoulder, and you groan and let your face drop into the pillows again.

Clint Barton is your best friend. You met him through your father Tony, and he was instantly like an uncle to you the same way Natasha was like a mother to you. He was all you had when both your father and Natasha died, but that all changed when he introduced you to Kate.

You watch as she goes to the closet for her freshly clean suit, and then sheds her pajamas in order to get ready for the mission. She hums a tune as she does, and then goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair. You get out of bed and follow, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind as she brushes her teeth, still humming. The brunette leans into your arms, and you notice the humming to be of “Let's Get Married” by the Bleachers. You shouldn’t be surprised. She sings it to you at any chance.

She puts on her shoes- the tennis shoes Clint bought her after a long talk about how she cannot wear her purple converse while fighting bad guys- and then presses a small kiss to your nose. “You missed.” You playfully complain, and she chuckles before kissing your lips.

She's on her way to the door when she turns back around, and you're expecting a hug. Instead, she runs straight past you and to her nightstand. She grabs something off of it, and you notice it as the bracelet you made her a year ago. You had been nervous to give it to her, especially since it is something an eight year old could have made, but she just smiled brightly and put it around her right wrist. She never takes it off now, unless she's in the shower or sleeping. She says it is her good luck charm, and you feel happy that a bracelet with clay beads of different shades of purple that says, “My Katie” gives her good luck when she's out risking her life.

She gives you a small hug, and then kisses you on the lips before speeding out the door.

You sigh, an everlasting smile and blush on your face as you let your body fall backwards onto the bed. Todays your day off from missions, and it was supposed to be a you and Kate day so now that the Kate part of it is not here, you try to figure out what to do. You don’t know where the mission is, how long it’ll take, what the risks are, what time she’ll be back, hell you don’t even know what it’s for and you silently cuss out Clint in your head for not giving you details to settle your head.

As if on cue, you get a message.

bird brain 🏹:

Simple mission, take down a few guys and grab the intel from the lowest level of the building.

It’s not too dangerous as long as she doesn’t decide to pull a Kate and not listen to me.

We’ll be home in a few hours and you can take your lover girl back.

She’s already driving me crazy and we’re on the jet ride there.

Chill out and rest your mind kid.

I’ll keep her safe.

You smile. Even though Kate can sometimes forget to give you the details, Clint never fails to reassure you he’ll keep your girl safe.

With your mind now at slight peace, you get up and make your way down the hall to Wanda’s room. Today is her day off, also known as the perfect day to go bother her. After that, you go bother Fury, only leaving his office when he threatens to send you on a mission. By then it’s lunch, and you look to the clock, expecting to see that a few hours have passed.

So, Kate left at 9am.

And it is currently………11am.

You sigh, pulling out a pan and deciding to make the team breakfast. And by team, you mean you and Wanda.

Meanwhile, with Kate and Clint.

She fucking pulled a Kate.

Clint simply told her to keep guard by the doors while he grabbed the info and alert him if anyone showed. She did that for about 4 minutes.

She then saw a bird, a blue bird, and it made her think of you so she did the only understandable thing. Left her post and followed the bird all the way outside of the building. It’s only when she hears her partner's voice coming over the ear piece in her ear yell, “Where the hell are you Kate?!” does she run back to the building, seeing the man being beaten by a few guards. She grimaces, pulling out an arrow and lining it up with her bow. She shots one in the arm, and suddenly all the attention is on her as she widens her eyes. “Sorry dude!” She says loudly, backing up with a nervous chuckle. “Maybe we can talk this out right? How about we make a deal? You let my partner go, and we’ll walk away from this peacefully. Alright?”

Clint groans from the ground. “No! We will not!” He yells, sitting up and grabbing his own bow.

The guards are large and strong looking, but even strength like theirs can’t go against an arrow flying into their skull. He does that to the rest of them, and then takes a deep breath and glares at Kate. She rubs the back of her neck with a nervous smile. “So, now that that’s over……wanna grab some lunch or something?”

He scoffs, groaning in pain as he stands up. She knows she’s going to be barated on the way home. They begin the walk back to the quinjet, and Kate is half listening to his rant as she reaches her hand to play with the bracelet on her arm.

The moment Kate realizes her bracelet is no longer on her right wrist, she drops the bow and arrow on the ground.

Clint turns to look at her and hisses, “What the hell are you doing Bishop? Pick up your bow and let's go!” She barely hears him though, as she's too busy checking her pockets and then the pebbled floor underneath her. He seems to notice her panic, and his voice and face softens as he tries to ask her more calmly, “What's wrong Kate?” She mumbles something, shaking her head and then looking at the building they just left. “Did you leave something in there?” She isn’t listening anymore, but he gets his answer when she takes off towards the building. He sighs and follows.

She scans the floors of the halls, tears filling her eyes when she doesn’t see the purple beads anywhere. Her breathing is beginning to get faster, and Clint tries his best to get her to stop for a second and take a deep breath. She does stop, but it’s only because she realizes a sob and continues hyperventilating.

“Kate. Kate, look at me.” She does, and he panics even more when he sees the tears. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what needs fixing.” He attempts a chuckle. She tries her best to breathe, but between the sobbing and erratic breathing, she barely gets out a weak, “M-my bracelet.”

His eyes widen. He knows how much the jewelry means to her, having almost been shot by an arrow when he teasingly took it one day. He looks on both wrists and then the floor around them, still trying to calm her down. It might seem childish, but that bracelet is everything to Kate. When she has to do stuff like missions, or visiting her mom and she can’t take you (her person), the bracelet is the next best thing. You’re her anchor, but there are times in life where you can’t be there. So the bracelet is there. For her to fidget with, or hold close to her heart as if it’s her holding you close to her.

She leans up against the wall, letting her body slide down it as she hyperventilates. “I-I need it.” He nods, looking into her brown eyes and stating firmly, “I know katie. I know. And I know the bracelet is important but I need you to listen to me right now.” She looks up to his face, hand going to her chest to scratch at it as if it’s going to help her breath. He holds her hands in his own. “We’re gonna get on the quinjet, go home to see your partner, and you’re going to feel so much better. The bracelet is to remind you of them right?” She nods repeatedly. “Then we’ll take you to them. Just think about them Katie.”

He lifts her off of the floor, one of her arms over his shoulder as her legs wobble and she lets him help her walk to the jet. “It’s alright Kate. I’m here. It’s all gonna be alright.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Back home, you're eating ice cream in bed when your phone rings. It’s Clint, and you instantly perk up in excitement. “Hey birdman, are you guys on your way home?”

He sighs, looking at Kate who's now curled up in the corner of the quinjet, knees to her chest and mumbling this to herself. “It’s Kate.” In retrospect, he probably should've been more detailed and not used the sentence that people only use when someone they care about is seriously hurt.

“какого черта? Ты сказал, что защитишь ее! ты глупый, глупый человек! если она не выживет, я доберусь до тебя раньше, чем это сделает карма!” His eyes widen at your yelling and he holds the phone a bit away to protect his eardrum. “Now calm down kid, she just had a panic attack. She seems to be doing alright now but I just wanted to let you know so you can keep an eye on her when we get home in…..4 minutes.” You sigh, but there's still panic in you when you wonder what could have brought on a panic attack. “What brought it on?”

Translation: what the fuck? You said you would protect her! you stupid, stupid man! if she doesn't make it, I'll get to you before karma ever will!

It sounds like he’s speaking to someone, probably Kate, before he says, “She lost her bracelet.”

You take a minute to think about it before you begin to giggle. You're not laughing at her having a panic attack, it’s more of a “that’s adorable and sad at the same time” kind of giggle. “Okay. tell her I love her and I’ll see her soon.” You hang up and think for a minute before grabbing the clay beads from under your bed.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

It doesn’t take that long to make, and by the time the quinjet is landing on the field outside of the compound, you have a bracelet that looks exactly like Kate’s old one.

You make your way outside, grinning at the sight of your girlfriend. She’s walking by herself now, her breathing has gone back to normal, and the only tears on her face are dry. You speed up, and you’re practically sprinting by the time you make it into her arms. She chuckles and holds you close, hiding her head in the crook of your neck. “I’m so sorry my love.”

You giggle. “What’s there to be sorry for Katie?” She sighs, pulling away from you to lift up her sleeve and show her bare wrist. “I lost my bracelet.” She looks ready to cry again, so you pull her into another hug and cradle her head. “I know honey. But apologies are for when you’ve done something wrong.” You assure, but she’s not having it.

“But I lost the gift you gave me! One of my favorite gifts of all time! My lucky charm!” You sigh, flipping over the hand of hers that you’ve been holding so her palm is facing the sky and putting the new bracelet in it. “I made you a new one Katie. And this one can hold just as much love and luck if you want it to.” She grins, holding the bracelet close to her heart like she used to do with the other one as she asks, “You promise?” “Promise what?” “That it’s made with just as much love and luck as the first one?” You giggle and caress her face. “I promise Katie.”

Kate Bishop is a simple girl. Things like purple bracelets, pizza, dogs, and movie nights, will make the brunette happy for at least a week. So when you began dating, you made it your mission to involve at least one of those things in your guy’s daily lives so she could be the happiest she could be. Whether it’s replacing her favorite piece of jewelry, eating pizza three nights in a row, or having a movie night on your day off, watching whatever films she wants and stuffing yourselves full of candy. You’d do it all a million times over if it meant your girl would be happy. Because you know she’d do the same for you.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fluff

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nyuuronfly · 8 months

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On Rain World lore and it's implementation within the game.

This is kindof a random ramble I went on in a Discord chat and just feel like sharing elsewhere. (also note this is all primarily in reference to the original game, Survivor's story.)

I honestly think too many miss the forest for the trees a bit with RW, in terms of how important the lore is, if that makes sense. I talked with somebody about first-time experiences with the game and they said they'd watched a number of lore explanation videos on YT before starting, because of some reason along the lines of "I didn't trust the game to deliver its own story properly." To me this is almost saddening to hear because I really feel that misses the point of why the game has it's lore to begin with.

To me, while playing, any tidbits i learned about history or other information contributed to a feeling like the world I was navigating had a very real history that saturated it, yet one that I would be unable to grasp fully. It is an illusory feeling of realness, given how it is experienced. The game is mechanically not designed to incentivize collecting many information pearls, especially when in the original game you can literally just drop them off a cliff and lose them forever. You get the feeling often like you are bound to never be able to get everything, nor would you even probably want to put in the effort, so the illusion actually stays stronger because of that. Your mind wanders speculating about every little detail, whether intention truly existed behind it or not, because it feels like it did. You learned that it might have. Maintaining that illusion while playing I think is the primary reason they were included, not actually the experience of "knowing" the history. Rain World in general seems to have a thematic fixation on the simple idea that individuals have limited perspectives. Joar Jakobsson has said that one of the core ideas behind Rain World was to recreate the life of a "rat in Manhattan." That is to say, a creature that understands how to find food, hide, and live in a complex man-made structure, that cannot understand it's structuring purpose or why it was built. The very core issue of the iterators, is that the solution to the "great problem" intrinsically has to lie with knowledge that could only be obtained from "the other side." They are corporeal beings trying to know something that pertains to something outside corporeal reality. Yet pursuit of knowledge is very important to creatures like ourselves. Collecting any individual pearl is mostly an exercise in doing a lot just for little bits of knowledge. There is a lot of understanding of just how significant wanting to know more is, even something unimportant, when you are left in the dark the way you are in the game. Most information pearls you deliver are literally completely useless to know about, but they feel personally important, especially in how finding them relates to your connection to the iterators. My primary motivation to find pearls in my first play was to spend more time with Moon. On a very real emotional level, Moon felt like my only friend in the world while I played. On a mechanical level, she does literally nothing. But Rain World manages to operate on a very emotional, even instinctual level with how it's designed. I wanted to be in her company and have something to give her. Because I am alone, and lost. So something along those lines is why I felt saddened to hear the sentiment like Rain World somehow "fails" to deliver it's "story." The purpose of the game is not to find pearls and hear about some grand narrative. At it's core, Rain World is a game that's design was inspired by nature, and it's use of history within the world relates to us as a player the way history relates to us as people. It is relayed through people reading from records created by parties with their own perspectives, and connects us abstractly to a sensation that there is more out there than our own lives. That is a feeling you have as a player, and ultimately the true story that Rain World tells is the memories you have playing it. What you did, saw, and felt. The same as how our story is that of our own lives. That is the purpose of the game.

#rain world #just rambling

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suzukiblu · 2 months

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WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! ( + non-chrono link for app users )

“Um, yeah,” Billy says, still internally cringing at himself. “Just–not just the bare minimum, I mean? Like–other things too. Books and games and snacks and . . . whatever you think’s fun, or whatever you want to learn about, or whatever.”

He’s definitely been in “homes” that didn’t give him things like that. He doesn’t want Lynn to feel like . . . a burden, or a problem, or just unimportant and unwanted like that, so . . . yeah, he’s definitely gonna get him things that aren’t just the bare minimum. As many of those things as he can, he thinks.

Batman gave them so much money, and that’s not even counting the stipend. Billy can definitely afford to give Lynn the kind of stuff none of his foster families wanted to give him. So, like–he’s gonna, obviously.

Of course he’s gonna.

Lynn ducks his head a little, then swallows uncomfortably. Billy resists the urge to nudge Tawky towards him again. He wonders if he could just, like . . . offer Lynn a hug, maybe? Maybe that’d be okay?

Or maybe it’d be weird and pushy, or maybe stupid, or maybe just make Lynn feel uncomfortable. They’ve never met before today and they’ve barely spent any time together at all, and Billy doesn’t want to be the type of foster parent who demands a relationship that just isn’t there, even if he’s . . . well, not really just a foster parent, he hopes. But those fosters just always made him feel like they were more interested in getting attention and looking good to strangers than anything about him.

He wants Lynn to feel like he’s interested in him–wants Lynn to know he’s interested in him, and cares about him, and isn’t gonna ignore him or hate him if he doesn’t follow some stupid script he’s got in his head of how he “should” be.

He definitely wants that.

“It’s okay if you don’t know what you think’s fun yet,” he tries, hoping he’s not assuming too much. “It’s probably kinda overwhelming, with, um . . . literally everything happening all at once and your whole life getting turned on its head, um . . . basically five minutes after it really started, so . . .”

“I was alive before I woke up,” Lynn says, a little stilted. “I–saw things. Learned things.”

“Things about yourself, or about how Cadmus wanted you to be?” Billy asks.

Lynn–pauses. Frowns.

“. . . um,” he says. “I . . . don’t know.”

Billy is pretty sure Cadmus just sucks, actually. Like. A lot.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, that’s okay too. You can take your time figuring it out. There’s no rush or anything.”

“Superman won’t like me if I don’t figure it out,” Lynn says, his frown deepening. “If I’m not–useful.”

. . . okay, Billy thinks. Cadmus really sucks, actually.

“Superman doesn’t care about people being useful,” he says firmly. “That’s like, the last thing Superman cares about. He just likes people for who they are.”

“. . . who I am is . . . fake, though,” Lynn says, his eyes slanting away. “It’s–programmed.”

“So?” Billy asks, reminding himself superheroes don’t burn down weird basement labs outside of extenuating circumstances. And anyway, the sidekicks already messed Cadmus up pretty bad as it was. “Lots of people get programmed. Red Tornado’s programmed, and he’s really nice. And Wonder Woman got made out of clay as a little kid, so she got, like, magic programming. Like, to be her ‘age’, you know?”

Lynn . . . blinks, slowly, and then glances back at him.

“You really think that?” he asks. Billy’s a little confused by the question. He doesn’t think it; he knows it.

“I mean, yeah?” he says. “I just mean–it doesn’t make you fake. That’s all. Especially ‘cuz you can, you know . . . learn stuff yourself, if you wanna. You don’t have to just stay the way you got taught to be.”

Lynn stares at him for a long, silent moment, then looks down at the table again.

“How long have you had–uh, Uncle Tawky?” he asks, abrupt and obviously trying to change the subject. That’s fine, Billy thinks; he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. And Lynn’s gotta learn how to do that kind of thing anyway, so it’s good practice for more complicated conversations, he figures.

“Since I was ten,” he says. “He came from India! I met him in Fawcett, though, and he’s been my best friend ever since! He’s really great. And a respectable gentleman, so you don’t need to be scared of him or anything. I mean, I don’t know if you’re scared of tigers or not? Because probably you’re tiger-proof? Like–normally, I mean. But yeah.”

“. . . I’m not scared of tigers,” Lynn says, looking a little bewildered, for some reason. Billy beams at him.

“Great!” he says happily. Tawky could probably hurt Lynn, since he’s magic too, but he obviously wouldn’t, so he’s just . . . not gonna draw attention to that right now, obviously. That wouldn’t make Lynn feel very safe, he’s pretty sure.

But Tawky could also probably stop Lynn if he got mind-controlled, so . . . maybe it would make him feel safer? Billy’s not sure, actually.

. . . hm. Yeah, he needs to figure that out.

“. . . you’ve really had him since you were ten?” Lynn asks, looking–hesitant, now. Billy doesn’t know why, but nods.

“Yup!” he says. “He’s the best.”

“. . . are you sure you want me to have him?” Lynn asks, still looking hesitant.

“Yeah!” Billy confirms cheerfully. “Tawky’s the best! He’ll protect you. And keep you from having bad dreams, too.” Tawky’s really good at eating nightmares, so yeah, Lynn won’t have to worry about bad dreams at all.

“Uh,” Lynn says, then very gingerly reaches over and picks up Tawky, and then sets him in his lap with a weird look on his face. He looks a little–emotional, maybe? At least for him, anyway. He’s not very expressive, so far. “Um. Okay.”

Billy just beams at him again. He’s really glad they like each other.

“. . . thanks,” Lynn says as he looks down at Tawky, voice a little abrupt again. “Um–Dad."

#cheshire #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!

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